Slytherin Ghost
by TotallyUnlitteralProductions
Summary: What would've happened if Draco did die from that Sectumsempra curse? What if he came back as a ghost? Twenty years from his fateful death, he meets Rose and Albus. Could they unravel the mysterious past of this cunning Slytherin, and possibly make peace? Draco tells us all in 'Slytherin Ghost'. RATED T FOR LANGUAGE. [SORRY, ON HOLD]
1. The Death of Draco (Or the Prologue)

**Slytherin Ghost-Prolouge**

**Draco is telling the tale, I don't own.**

I need to figure something out.

NOW.

I'm standing over a sink, crying into it. It got too hot for me in here, so I ripped off my house vest, and tossed it neglectively to the side. I took a deep breath, and promptly looked at my reflection. I took in my features, not having seen them in months, which is definitely a first for me.

My eyes were sorta wide and bewildered, my skin paler than usual, so pale it looked grey. My usually white-blond hair was, well, white like snow, and it was parted to the side, and the longer side's frayed this way and that. I was a fucking wreck.

_"Commit suicide, or wait for the dark lord to kill me himself?" _The question raved over and over in my head, making me slightly dizzy.

"I know you did it Malfoy," Potter's voice sounded behind me. I turned around, hoping not to get impossibly more paler, and he continued,"You hexed her."

I knew he crossed a line, and a very fine one at that. _"SHUT UP BASTARD!"_ I roared in my head as I threw a very mean jinx at him.

We battled, and my mind became a hazy haze as my survival instincts (which really aren't all that good) kicked in and yelled directions and shot spells.

Then I became the haziest of all when Potter yelled,"SECTUMSEMPRA!" And I fell backwards.

YOWCH WHAT THE GODDAMN FUCK? THERE ARE CUTS ON MY CHEST, NECK, AND FACE! NO, PLEASE, NO, DON'T LET ME DIE LORD, I SWEAR I'LL STOP HELPING THE DARK LORD AND GET HELP FROM DUMBLEDORE, PLEASE, JUST PLEASE, LET ME LIVE!

Was that a bit overdramatic-? Sorry if it was, truly sorry, I'll try harder next time not to be such a bitch.

Anywho, the door banged open, and Professor Snape, Professor Dumbledore, and Madam Pomfrey ran in, Potter behind them. Gees he's fast.

"No, no, no," Snape pleaded as he picked me up and patted the side of my face,"Please stay awake, stay here, your gonna be alright."

Madame Pomfrey couldn't seem to figure out how to mend the cuts. "They're not anything like I've seen. I can't mend them. I can't stop the bleeding."

I officially gave up hope, and apparently my eyes had paled several shades to prove it. "I'm going to d-d-die?" I choked.

"I think so, I can't seem to be able to fix this," Madame Pomfrey said.

I nodded, and said,"You tried your best. Now, Potter," I barked and turned to him,"You should feel guilty, because you're the reason I'm dying in the first place. So, I hope you live a happy and fulfilling life, knowing that you've taken someone else's chance at that!" I gave a weak sarcastic smile, but then my muscles gave up on me.

My heart sped up, and my breathing became faster. Snape and Harry made movements to help, but Madame Pomfrey said,"He's dying, there's no point."

I looked to Snape and said,"Tell my friends and family I love them, please. As my dying wish."

Snape nodded, rubbing my right forearm. My neck muscles gave up, and my head tilted back.

Dumbledore had one arm around Harry, the other around Madame Pomfrey, and Snape was putting one arm around her as well.

So much for a deathbed, eh?

I choked, and heard these last final words as I held onto my last breath:

"I am so very sorry Draco, and I get that you'll never forgive me."

LATER,

My ghost body was pacing the bathroom. It had been hours since I had died. YES, I SAID DIED.

Well, I wasn't exactly pacing seeing how I wasn't able to walk, I was more or less gliding, but making my legs move in a fashion that said so at least made me feel productive.

Sort of.

The scene from my death was playing over and over again in my head, and I was screaming in my head. Realizing that being silent and screaming in my head wouldn't do me any good, I promptly opened my mouth, took a deep breath, and screamed at the top of my lungs.

When I was done, I realized how good that felt, just to let it all out from holding everything in, and did it a few times more.

I sat on the edge of the sink where I had cried before my death, and did the exact opposite of what I had done earlier.

I laughed.

My laugh was high, but had a certain edge to it. It was bubbly and happy, but there was a darker monotone under that that suggested otherwise.

I learned a backflip and did spirals across the room, my body graceful and lithe. "Whoo-hoo!" I called in triumph, and sat on the edge of a bathroom stall.

I swung my legs back and forth like a child with their feet in the water, but I didn't care, I was actually having fun!

I hummed a few tunes I knew, and the occasional song that my father would have scolded me listening to.

Well, too bad! I'm dead and he's in jail-

Wait, that-

Shit, I'm sad again.

A small tear appeared at my cheek, and I let it slide down. And another. And another.

Until I could've sworn I could've filled the entire Indian Ocean with my tears.

"Why me?" I asked no one in particular.

"Your just defying your death Draco, you'll get used to it," a female's voice said from behind me.

I turned around abruptly, hovering across from the one person I would've loved to have seen earlier, Moaning Myrtle!

"Myrtle!" I cried, darting forward and hugging her.

"Oh!" She seemed shocked. I guess a guy had never done this before for her.

"Hey," I said, pulling my legs into a shape where it looked like I was sitting on a chair, and pulled her ghostly form onto my lap,"You missed the grand finale of my sixteen-years long life. It was very depressing."

Her eyes brightened,"Was it dreadful?"

I gave her one of my rare smiles and said,"Absolutely dreadful. It was a murder."

"Who murdered you?" She turned serious.

"Harry Potter," I said and gestured to my chest, which was stained slightly with my blood.

"Wow," She said, caressing a hand down my bloodstained chest. I guess she had never gotten to do that when she was alive, and it was nice, her fingertips tickling my torso.

"I don't think he knew what he was doing. I didn't, seeing how my brain took over before I could say anything," I said, pressing her close.

Myrtle was a really good friend, not that many had realized this.

"Hey," She said,"Go tell him you aren't happy!"

I let go of her and waved goodbye, and then my ghostly form wrapped up into a little ball, and I darted away, away to the Gryffindor commons.

"Password?" The fat lady asked me.

"I'm dead. I might as well just pass through you," I said. I did so, and went upwards towards the ceiling.

"You did the right thing by getting rid of the book Harry, no one else should get hurt now," Granger said.

"Yea, but Malfoy's bloody well dead. He could get into big trouble. Not saying that no Malfoy isn't a big improvement," Weasley commented.

"Oh, isn't that unfortunate for you," I crooned. "I came back as a ghost."

They looked up, and saw my floating figure giving off a low amount of light.

"I'm not sure how many times I can say this, but trust me, I am really, terribly sorry for accidentally killing you," Potter pleaded.

I floated to the ground, and perching upon the arm of the couch,"You can't do much, the damage is done, I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive you."

"I understand. I wouldn't forgive myself either," He nodded.

"So this is the famous Gryffindor Commons," I said, looking around at the artistry. "Cozy."

"What are you even doing in here?" Granger asked,"You're a Slytherin the last time I checked."

"Yes, a _dead_ Slytherin," I said,"The rules don't apply to me."

"Since when did they did?" Weasley muttered.

"I heard that!" I snapped.

"Oh, hey Sir Nicholas!" Granger called and waved.

"Hello Miss Hermione. My, who is this young ghost? I haven't seen him," Nearly Headless Nick gestured to me.

"That would be and accident on my part," Potter confessed,"He's dead because of me."

"I see," Nick turned to me and clasped a hand on my shoulder,"Let's go have you meet the others now."

As we floated out, I swore revenge on Potter, and hatred to anyone related.

**So, how'd it go? Was Draco nice? Welp, that was in the past, now it's time to see what happens.**


	2. 20 years, day one

**Slytherin Ghost Chapter 1**

**I SWEAR I DONT OWN HP. This is 20 or so years on in the future, September 1st.**

I looked at my reflection in the dungeon mirror. I was still translucent, still quite handsome, still had the cuts on my chest, still sixteen.

Still dead.

I calculated that it was about twenty years since my untimely death, sixteen years old, having to work for the dark lord, and cracking from all that strain. Twenty long years, and I was still here, in this castle, while all my friends and enemies went on to having successful careers, getting married, and having children. Having the wonderful luxury of growing up.

I was still here, still sixteen, still virgin, still not a father.

I hated Potter for it.

"Draco!" Fred called from behind me.

"Yes?" I asked, turning around, adjusting my sloppy tie.

"They're here! The newbies! Let's go pulverize them!" Fred was always my counter-part. He was happy, cheerful, and a natural prankster. I, on the other hand, was sad, angry, and natural smartass. Why wasn't I put in Ravenclaw, I spend most of my time with the majority of them anyway.

You know those memes where it's like "good, neutral, evil" and then "lawful, neutral, chaotic"? Yea, he's chaotic good whilst I am lawful evil.

"Coming!" I said, floating over to where he was.

Myrtle joined up with us, and we floated to where the first years always were.

"Ohmygoshtheyaresocute!" Myrtle squealed, sort of moving into a box shape.

Several students gasped, and I took a guess saying they were the mud-eh-sorry-muggle-borns.

"First years," Longbottom said,"This is Moaning Myrtle."

Myrtle waved, looking at all their faces.

"Dead Fred," He continued, and Fred did a back-flipping hello.

"And Malevolent Malfoy," Longbottom finished, and I just raised a hand in recognition.

"I've heard of you all," A small, black-haired boy said,"My dad and brother told me about you."

"Who are they?" I asked, curiously getting closer.

"Harry Potter and James Potter," He said,"I'm Al Potter."

"And then I'm his cousin, Rose," A bushy red-haired girl said.

I narrowed my eyes at them both. "Well, well, well, I know your parents, and Harry was an ungrateful bastard, and still is I suppose."

"MALFOY!" Longbottom roared at me,"Don't make me get Dumbledore!"

"Pshaw, what do I care? He's just an old man," I said, sitting on the banister.

"This is why I regretted your death at such an age, Draco," Dumbledore said from behind me. I gasped, he had never used my first name before, no one did! Maybe that's because it's like a dark, deadly secret to me, and everyone gladly respected that, seeing how I was, well, malevolent.

"How, why-?" I asked, floating back to Myrtle and Fred.

"You need to be nicer," Dumbledore said, floating next to Neville,"And this is my way of disciplining you. Your only mean because of your secrets."

The first years started to whisper amongst themselves.

"Secrets? Ghosts have secrets?"

"My sister warned me about him."

"Well, looks like we'll have to tell our siblings about that."

"I wonder why he has secrets."

"He looks so young, maybe that has to do with it."

"Yea, your probably right."

I glared at Dumbledore and darted into the hall. I swung myself onto the rafters and looked down upon the sorting.

"Potter, Albus!" Neville called.

I looked down, and the hat was placed upon the child's head. I smirked and lounged and whispered to myself,"Sooo gonna be a Gryffindor."

But the hat surprised me when it called out,"SLYTHERIN!"

Albus walked to the Slytherin table and I dimmed my glow. Neville caught my eyes and I mouthed,"Hat must be trolling."

Neville turned back to his list. Dumbledore floated up beside me and whispered,"Surprising, isn't it Draco?"

"Yes sir," I whispered back. He had became sort of a father figure to me, ignoring the fact that he was, what, two ten?

"You should go say hi when it's time for the feast," He suggested.

"Fine, fine, whatever," I whispered back.

The feast officially started. The Baron, whom I had become excellent friends with, gestured to me to follow him. I floated down, allowing my glow to do whatever it wished.

I came down to the front with all the first years. They cringed away from me and I said calmly,"You have nothing to fear of me. I am a Slytherin, just like you, and I do not harm those of my own kind."

"But your dead," One said,"How can you harm us?"

"I'm not sure if anyone has ever told you about the power of words. I study others, find the faults within them, and then wait for the perfect moment, letting the words do most of the work. I at least used to, when I was alive," I said, letting my voice give its surreal tone.

"Oh, hello Malfoy," Stacie, a third-year girl whom I got along with quite well, said.

"Good Evening Stacie," I said and gave her a bow.

Most people wondered why I died in 1997 at the age of sixteen when I acted like this. Just natural decorum everyone!

"So, how was your summer?" She asked, eating a bit of steak. Another luxury I so dreadfully missed.

"Okay I guess. If you count the Fat Friar trying to break into my room okay," I said.

"I thought you haunted that old boy's toilet everyone avoids on the seventh-floor corridor," She said.

"That doesn't mean I live there!" I said,"That is entirely unsanitary!"

"But your a ghost," She pointed out.

"As so I keep getting reminded," I growled.

"Malfoy," She said apologetically. If the students understood it, they wouldn't be poking around. I turned back to the first years, making a mental note to have a talk with Professor McGonagall, who was miraculously still alive, and was headmistress, about the ghosts deaths being poked at.

"How old are you?" A first year asked out of the blue.

I floated to the side, near the wall and said,"I'm supposed to be thirty-six now, but seeing how I am dead, I'm sixteen."

Twenty years of death. And counting.

We actually had a conversation. That Al kid kept looking at me funny, and I kept a good eye on him.

"So, how did you die?" One asked.

My light dimmed and if I were still alive, my heart would've stopped and my skin would've paled. But seeing how I no longer have those luxuries, I just looked stricken.

"Uh-um..." I trailed off, and then said very faintly,"No one has ever asked me that."

Because the majority of the time, no one cared. And to be fair, their parents knew, so why didn't they tell them?

Oh right, because it disgraced the great and amazing Potter.

"Why don't you tell us?" Al asked.

My mind whirred into action. Tell them the truth, tell them a lie, or tell them to shove off. "It's personal," I concluded was the best answer.

"Oh come on, how is death personal?" Another asked.

"Because it is!" I half-shrieked and zoomed out of the hall.

I returned to the bathroom I haunted and bent over the sink like I did twenty years ago.

I looked up at my reflection and the memory played.

And I have no idea what happened, but I floated to the floor, my back on the ground, and I cried for the rest of the damn night.


	3. A talk with the ol' man

**Slytherin Ghost, Chapter 2**

**Hi. I don't own HP. Bye. **

Miserable, moping, moaning Malfoy!

That's soon to be what everyone would call me.

I floated through the library, looking at the shelves of books, and I heard a voice whisper behind me,"Uhm, Malfoy?"

I turned around and saw Rose Weasley, and I bent down,"Yes?"

"I'm sorry about yesterday. That was probably really embarrassing for you, wasn't it?" She asked me.

"Yea, a tad bit. But it wasn't your fault, so you shouldn't be apologizing," I said, and stood up. I leaned against the wall, and looked outside. I couldn't see much, seeing how my glow was messing things up.

"I know," she said,"But I guess that was the first real apology you've ever gotten. My parents told me about you before you died. You were a rich brat who only cared about himself and didn't have real friends."

It surprised me that she said this calmly, but damn, she was wrong.

"I had friends. I had a few, but I had them. Yes, I was a rich brat and yes I only cared about myself at times, but sometimes I cared about others. My parents, my friends, even the occasional enemy. But all on all, they can say what they want, but they don't know me," I said, turning my head to the side, and holding out my hand.

"Then what were you like, really?" Rose asked.

"Why should I tell you?" I asked, my hands flopped down and my head cocked towards the side ,"How do I know you're not just going to keep the little secret between us? How do I know you are not going to blab it to the entire school? If there was one thing I learned of worth from my father, it was,'Don't trust others, they will always lie to you.' I didn't listen, and one year after my death, my parents were ripped away too."

Rose gave me a sympathetic look, and said,"I bet you didn't mean for that to happen."

"Yea!" I yelled, my voice getting louder by the second,"I didn't mean for it to happen, I never mean anything to happen! No one means for these things to happen, and you know what, they always do!"

"Draco!" Dumbledore bellowed. "Come with me. I'm sorry Miss Weasley for his behavior. Have a lovely day."

"You too sir," She said and walked away.

I gloomily followed Dumbledore, my arms crossed, my head down.

We spoke in low voices, floating above the students heads.

"I actually thought what you said was slightly wise Draco," He said, giving me a small nod of approval.

"Really?" I asked, not hopeful. Sorta downtrodden really. I knew I was in trouble. See, even in the afterlife us teenage ghosts are troublesome, and we still get punishments.

"Really. Now, I get that you were provoked, like normal," He said.

"Like normal," I echoed.

"But I'm really thinking that the provocation shouldn't be enough to make you act like you do. Sure, it would be enough to make you annoyed, but there is something else, something that drives you to act this way. Do you like being angry with the students?"

"No sir. I hate it whenever I get mad at them. It just...comes out and I can't stop it. There is like some floodgate that still holds too many emotions, and I just can't get it to open when I want it to, and get everything I don't want in there out."

"Floodgate, excellent analogy. But what I've noticed, and stay with me, is that every time someone asks about your past, that's what gets to you. You can't keep everything a secret forever, Draco. Something's just have to be out."

I knew he was right. I just didn't want everyone to know my personal stuff. Sure, the other ghosts answered happily, but I just blew up and stormed away, which probably gained me my nickname, Malevolent Malfoy.

I JUST DON'T WANT EVERYONE KNOWING ME!

*sobs continuously* *stops* Oh. *sniffles* I'm sorry. Back to the story.

I sat down on a bench in the courtyard, and Dumbledore sat beside me.

"This place has always been beautiful, even in the war. Don't you agree?" Dumbledore asked me.

I was sort of confused, but nodded anyway.

And then it struck me.

I was still stressed out about the war!

I smiled, and floated upwards. I did a few laps above the school, up and around Gryffindor tower, and then all the way down to the dungeons. I darted into the Slytherin dorms, and lounged on a rafter.

And then a thought kept playing through my head.

_"Why am I still stressed about this?" _

I decided to sleep on it, like all of my sensible ideas.

Strange.


End file.
